Shadow
by noxfiction
Summary: What if Adam had been found? His life would never be quite the same…
1. Chase

**Shadow - Chapter 1: Chase**

'I'mma kill you, you sick asshole!' Detective Tapp barrelled after Zep along the dingy corridor as fast as he could manage. His lungs were burning from exertion. His adrenaline seemed to be pulsing and expanding in his veins, almost becoming a wild creature fighting to escape. It was his sole purpose was to catch the haggard man who was darting away from him, occasionally disappearing in dark pools of shadow. He couldn't take his eyes off the fleeing figure, Zep was crafty; he probably knew every secret passage in the place.

Tapp was slowly catching up to Zep, who had just appeared on the far side of a dim pool of green tinted light. He forced himself to run even faster. He could hear Zep's frantic breaths echoing and bouncing off the grimy walls. Their footsteps and laboured breathing were the only sounds in the dark building. Tapp tried to reach out and grab Zep. With a rough swipe of his arm Tapp caught him on the cheek, letting out an involuntary cry of triumph as the pale man crashed painfully to the floor. Grabbing Zep by the collar of his jacket, Tapp heaved him up and repeatedly beat him around the head with his free fist blood burst from Zep's broken nose and he groaned. He felt entirely vindicated to inflict as much pain as he could on the smaller man.

Zep lifted his arms, trying to shield his face from the beating. Jigsaw's poison was beginning to take effect; he was weakening by the second. He needed to complete his task, he needed his antidote. He couldn't die now. He couldn't. He had come so very far, he couldn't fail now! Mustering up all the anger, fear, the remaining adrenaline in his very being, Zep tightened his grip on the gun in his hand and brought it down, full force, on Tapp's temple. It wasn't the strongest of strokes but it worked. He shakily sidestepped as Tapp's body fell to the floor. He didn't have time to see whether the detective was unconscious or dead, he had his own business to attend to. Zep gathered his last ounces of energy and made his way to the bathroom. He had to complete his task, he _had_ to.

The metal on metal screech of the bathroom's dungeon door pierced Zep's ears as he attempted to enter the room. Before he had fully entered the chamber Lawrence's frenzied cries had started, 'You bastard! I'll fucking kill you!'

Zep balked as he watched Lawrence drag himself across the floor, grabbing for the hem of Zep's pants. The doctor was trailing blood everywhere from his ankle; his maimed foot was lying forgotten in the corner. The younger man, Adam, was heaped across the room, blood seeping from beneath his prone figure. Lawrence's face was whiter than the grimy walls of the bathroom; he looked like a zombie, his voice harsh and other-worldly as confused threats poured from him. He spat vitriolic curses at Zep, wrenching at the hem of his trouser leg. Lawrence was so clearly close to death that Zep had no reservations about shooting him.

'You fucking bastard! I'll fucking kill you!'

Pointing the gun at Lawrence, Zep moved to the other side of the bathroom, nudging Adam's prone form with his foot; he didn't know if he could muster killing two people in a day. Luckily, he seemed unnaturally limp, and was extremely pale. Only one person to shoot! Zep then gathered up his withering energy, forcing himself to believe that this was the right choice; he would complete his task the second Lawrence was dealt with. He muttered, raising the gun, 'You're too late.'  
'Why…?' Lawrence whimpered, his hands shaking uncontrollably.  
'It's the rules.' Zep tiredly explained. He pressed his finger to the trigger and felt a wave of euphoria; he was going to survive, he was going to win! Before he could shoot he jerked, something twisted his ankle brutally and his entire weight crashed to the floor.  
Adam dragged Zep's frail body towards him, rabidly beating every inch of Zep that he could reach. Once more Zep vainly tried to defend himself from a savage beating. Adam incensed, and the poison coursing through Zep's body was weakening him every second. He could barely lift his arms to protect his face as Adam punched him over and over. The final thing Zep heard was Adam's animal cry as he brought the toilet's porcelain cistern cover down on Zep's aching head.

Tapp stirred, his vision drifting in and out. The sound of dripping water echoed in his head and he forced his heavy eyelids to rise. He grasped his head and groaned. That sly little mother fucker had knocked him out cold! Clueless as to how long he'd been lying in the dingy corridor for Tapp stood up, checked his pockets for his cell, and picked up his gun. He may have lost crucial minutes. Continuing down the corridor was hard; his vision was blurred. He leaned on the wall for support.

For a while Tapp wondered aimlessly along, not knowing where he was going in the eerie green half light, but Zep wasn't a huge guy and the building had to come to an end sometime. Shadows seemed to whirl and dance into Zep's figure, Tapp ignored these hallucinations; they cost him valuable time. Turning the next corner his eyes met a strange sight. In the half light of the corridor it looked like a ghost, lying in the middle of the floor. Pointing his gun at the apparitions head he barked, 'Stay on the ground and don't move!'

When he didn't get a response he edged forward and nudged the figure with his foot. Carefully he hunched over to examine the body closer. Out of the gloom he slowly picked out the person's familiar facial features. 'What the…' He was sure his messed up brain was playing a bizarre prank on him. The person he'd been tracking for so long, the person he was _so _sure was to blame for all these killings was laying right in front of him! Lawrence's face was white as a sheet. He wasn't moving. Tapp checked for a pulse and found nothing. He knew he should report this, but his mind was entirely focused on finding Zep and beating the bastard until he was unrecognisable. Behind Lawrence was a heavy trail of blood. Tapp staggered back as he saw the source of the liquid.

'Where the fuck- What the Hell happened in here?' Following the horrific trail away from Lawrence's body, and picturing himself in a rather morbid spin on Hansel and Gretel, Tapp rounded another corner, holding his gun in front of him, his finger poised on the trigger. Turning into the next corridor he found himself staring at an ethereal silver light. It shone from behind the bathroom door, and in the gloom had the ominous look of a gravestone. With some effort, and a lot of cursing, Tapp slid it open.


	2. Fragile

**Shadow - Chapter 2: Fragile**

Tapp slid the heavy metal door open and surveyed the scene. He reeled back at the sight: Lawrence's dismembered foot; Zep's pulverized body; Adam lying stretched out in a pool of dark, thick blood. The awful coppery smell lingered in the air. There was a chain leading from Adam's ankle to a pipe on the wall. Tapp moved across the room slowly, examining Zep's body from a distance. The guys face had been obliterated. Completely destroyed. His blood was slowly seeping out and mixing with Adam's on the tile floor.

'Hey!' Tapp said, moving to Adam's prone form and kneeling beside him, 'Wake up.' He checked Adam's pulse. It was still there, barely a whisper of what it should be. Tapp grasped him by the shoulder and shook. He saw Adam's eyelids flicker and shook harder; he needed this kid awake, he needed answers. A sharp pain in Adam's wounded shoulder pierced the fog of delirium and he cried out. He still had life in him. Tapp did not stop shaking him. Deep down in Adam's throat he made a small whining noise that elevated slowly into a wail and he tightly shut his eyes, trying to block out the searing pain.

Tapp was insistent, 'Wake up, kid. Wake up!' Adam's eyelids wavered, half opening, and then closed again, his brow furrowing against the waves of pain and nausea the shaking had brought on.

'Uhnnn… no… _d-don't_…' He just wanted to sink back into the pool of dark unconsciousness that blurred the pain and helped him to forget. He wanted to feel nothing, to continue to lie here until he no longer had to live at all. The pain was too; it seemed much easier to allow himself to sink into the vast unknown of death. Tapp glanced about the room, once more letting his weary eyes rest on Zep's broken skull. Pulling himself together he reached into his pocket to get his cell and called Detective Kerry. He wasn't on the force any more, but he should still report things like this; it'd be unethical not to. Plus, they'd been chasing Jigsaw for so long now, and here was another one of his victims…Tapp was _not_ going to let this one die.

Adam drifted in and out of consciousness. The searing pain of the bullet throbbed in his shoulder and his mind was screaming at him to escape and find help. But the chain, the leash that was locked around his ankle was holding him back. He was dimly aware of a figure moving around somewhere on the other side of the room, he thought it was a figment of his exhausted imagination... his minds last ditch attempt at distracting him from the realisation that this was it; he was going to stay in this dank room until he died, never to be seen again. Everything was just a blur of hurt and numb thoughts. The voices that abruptly filled the room, shouting orders and whispering in concern for Adam's state, he assumed, were all part of himself. What he wished was happening. He couldn't bring himself to believe that this was it. In the darkness of the bathroom he longed for a foreign hand to take his and bring him back from the brink of cold nothingness that he was dangling above. Through a haze of nightmarish shadows Adam saw figures clamouring, heard unfamiliar voices yelling.

'…You'll be ok, son…'

'…Not long now…'

'…We'll get you out of here…'

These voices promised things Adam refused to believe. He would never escape this place. He would always be trapped, waiting and hoping until the darkness swallowed him for good. In a muddle of movement and confusion Adam found himself looking up at a dark ceiling… that was... _moving_? He could no longer feel the shackle rubbing on the raw skin of his ankle… the cold tile floor wasn't pressed to his cheek. He was dying. That he was sure of. He was leaving his body. But it was unfair… if this was death why could he still feel the agony of the bullet in his shoulder? Finally Adam slid back into blackness, warm, welcoming and complete.

The last thing Adam expected when he awoke was the stench of disinfectant surrounding him. Nor did he expect to waken in a soft, warm bed. He fully opened his eyes to find himself in a sterile white room, at first believing that he was back in the bathroom and the lights had been switched on again. But everything was tidy. Everything was clean and ordered. All he could hear was a distant hum of people's voices and the slow steady beep of some strange machines that were gathered in a far corner. He uttered a panicked cry and closed his eyes. He waited for countless minutes, trying to focus on the rainbows of colours bursting in his vision. The smell of bleach would not go away. Slowly he opened his eyes again, his sound mind sitting back, cowering in his subconscious, and he looked around.

Mounting panic built up in Adam's chest. The room had no windows and only one door leading to who knew where? It was another artificial prison. He glared at his shaking hands, slowly realising that there were cables and pads attached to him, all over his chest, leading to the strange machines in the corner. Hyperventilating, he struggled out of bed, unable to grasp the situation. He clutched at a cable, which was attached to a needle in his arm and yanked it out. A scream of confusion and panic bursting from his chest, his shoulder throbbed and the world became a blur.

Suddenly strong hands were on him and he cried out as they pushed his shoulders back into the mattress. Realising he was free of the chain that had prevented him from escaping before, Adam kicked violently at the person holding him down. He didn't care if he hurt the stranger; all he knew was he wanted to escape. Now he had the ability he wanted to run, run until all this was behind him and the pain and terror were all but a distant memory. He was full of rage and adrenaline that was so strong he began to shake. Someone grasped his wrists and pressed them down onto the bed. Adam's energy began to drain and his screams became wails, the desperate panic subsiding to him laying, trembling on top of the sheet that had been covering him moments before, half groaning in pain, half crying at the frustration of being captive again.

'Adam, if you continue to struggle like this we'll have to sedate you.' The calm voice shocked Adam out of his fit of confusion, and for a second he gave himself the chance to take in his surroundings. There was a woman at the door, dressed in light blue scrubs and gripping a clipboard tightly to her chest. She looked stressed, but an underneath glimmer of control shone in her eyes. Still breathing heavily Adam glanced upwards and saw two men, doctors, looking down on him, still pressing him down to the mattress. They looked friendly but determined to keep Adam in this position until he was calm again,

'Y-you can let me go…'Adam muttered weakly. The two doctors waited a second longer before releasing Adam and allowing him to curl up on his side, pulling his knees up so he was in a foetal position. He closed his eyes and breathed in the strange scent of bleach and hospital food. He felt sick. His hospital gown was covered in sweat. Even so, he felt cleaner than he had in a long time. At least he wasn't wearing his t-shirt that had been caked in blood.

'Adam, I'm Dr Miller,' the woman at the door said, coming forward to see the young man properly, 'You're in hospital, you've been here for almost two days but you've been unconscious the whole time.' Adam wearily opened his eyes and looked at her._  
_'What… uh… I'm... not in the bathroom?' His thoughts were mixing with the painkillers and sedatives that had been fed into his body. He was groggy and felt as if he'd throw up any second. He screwed his brow up in confusion._  
_'No. You're safe now.'  
'Safe…?'  
'Yes, you're ok now. We've removed the bullet from your shoulder and fixed up your injuries as best we could, but we're going to keep you in here for a while to make sure you aren't suffering from any internal injuries or infection.' Dr Miller's voice got louder as she crouched next to the bed, looking Adam in the eyes. She had a friendly face and long strawberry blonde hair which rested gently on her shoulders.

'You did a good job pulling your IV out though. I'll have to fix that up for you,' she turned to the other two men and nodded to the door, 'Thanks guys, I think we'll be ok now.'

Adam blearily watched them say their goodbyes. He closed his eyes again. He was in hospital. Safe. Although he was far from harm his drifting thoughts took him back into the bathroom, took him back to Lawrence. With a terrible wave of realisation Adam jerked up, 'Lawrence! Lawrence, where is he? Where is he?' The stammered question rang out across the small room and his shoulder jolted with pain again. Dr Miller looked at him sadly, her eyes shining.  
'Adam… I'm so sorry… Dr Gordon-'

'Lawrence!'  
'Lawrence... didn't make it.'  
Adam's world shifted as he collapsed onto the mattress, falling into darkness again.


	3. Abandoned

**Shadow - Chapter 3: Abandoned**

Adam's concept of time and place had been non-existent since waking up in the bathroom. He had been shut in a room with no windows to judge whether it was day or night, and had become gradually more disorientated. Now there were no windows in his hospital room. He stayed in his bed, feigning sleep whenever any doctors or nurses entered to check on him, for what felt like weeks. All he could go on was the infrequent meal times.

Every so often he'd hear a nurse come in; feel them checking his shoulder and ankle for infection before leaving again. He drifted between sleep and waking unknowingly. Pretending to be unconscious was easier than answering people's questions, or seeing their unattached pity as they went about their business. There was one thing wrong with his plan. Lying there in the dark recesses of his mind a hazy recollection of the bathroom would swim together, and he could feel the hard tile floor beneath him. He could still smell the blood.

Whenever Adam was sure the room was empty he would open his eyes. It wasn't as bad as he thought; the light chased away the lurking image of the bathroom but instead he was faced with the fact that this was Lawrence's hospital. He'd worked with these people... They didn't look perturbed by his death at all. They just checked IVs, chatted and acted as if everything was normal, when the horror of what had happened to them was a constant reminder to Adam that life could never be normal again. All he wanted was to hear Lawrence's voice reassuring him that he'd be ok. That his body would heal, he would forget the horrible, incapacitating feeling of being so alone and helpless. Lawrence had been Adam's last hope in the bathroom and he'd believed that while he was still alive they would both be ok. Now though, Adam felt truly abandoned. He felt disconnected from every single person walking the hospitals halls. He needed someone to know what he'd been through, to have experienced it too, otherwise he felt patronised by their words of comfort.

Adam reached up to rub his eyes, wondering how long he would have to lie in this bed, dosed up on so much medication he couldn't keep track of it. He unconsciously tensed as someone knocked on his door.  
'Adam?' It was Dr Miller. Adam relaxed; she was the only person in the whole building that he felt relatively comfortable around.

'How're you feeling today?' she asked, sitting in the chair opposite his bed. Adam hesitated. How could he answer a question like that?  
'Mmm…' He realised this wasn't the most eloquent response he could give, and since the young woman watching him was the only tolerable person he knew of right now, he tried again.

'I've been better.' There was a distant reflection of his old wit in the short sentence.  
'Need anything? Food? Its lunch soon.' Adam's stomach twisted at the thought of any food, let alone the stuff he'd smelled being carted around the building earlier.

'I'm ok thanks… what time is it?'  
'11:30. You've been out for two days now...'  
Adam shifted uncomfortably, completely at a loss of how to generate conversation. It was as if his brain had lost the will to think logically anymore. Thankfully he didn't have to try. Another knock at the door rang out and two police officers piled into the small room.

Adam wasn't the most confident guy at the best of times, but he usually hid behind his sharp wit. Unfortunately that seemed to have evaporated. The two police officers were extremely polished, and there he was, sat in a blue hospital gown with hair that he was sure hadn't seen shampoo in a week. Awkwardly, he pulled up the bed sheet and slid a hand through his flat hair.  
'Adam Faulkner?' The first officer, a tall guy, mid thirties with piercing blue eyes, asked.  
'Uh huh…' Adam cursed his inability to talk like an adult; the incident in the bathroom appeared to have destroyed his ability to converse.

'I'm Detective Richards, and this is my partner, Detective Scott.' The other man, slightly shorter than Richards, with a thick dark moustache and glasses nodded to Adam and Dr Miller. 'We understand that you have been through a harrowing incident but it is necessary we speak with you.' Swallowing the huge lump developing in his throat, and subsequently almost throwing up all over the two policemen, Adam prepared for a new type of torture.

'Are you ok, Adam?' Dr Miller asked, coming in and closing the door gently behind her. He was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling.

'I thought I'd check in on you; police interviews aren't easy at the best of times.' Touched by her concern, Adam turned to look at her. Since the police officers left he had refused to speak with, or even look at any other doctor. They'd grilled him about everything; the picture of Alison and Diana Jigsaw had left, Zep- and how Adam had beaten him to death, Jigsaw himself and Lawrence's severed foot. By the end of the interview Adam was so distressed and agitated he had refused to talk anymore and ignored them until they left.

'I know everything must be really hard for you right now,' Dr Miller said, and for once Adam didn't feel like lashing out. She seemed genuine, but as much as it hurt he couldn't bring himself to say anything. Instead he scratched his shoulder and sighed.  
'Look… have you got anyone we can call? Family? A girlfriend?'  
Realising it had been months since he'd talked to anyone besides his friend Jason, and a handful of his other stoner buddies, Adam shook his head. He could _not_ bring himself to call his mother. He could barely imagine the conversation.

'_Hey mom, how's it going?'  
'Ok Adam, how 'bout you?'  
_'_Ah, well you see, I'm in the hospital after being kidnapped by the Jigsaw killer and chained to a pipe in a dilapidated bathroom, but I'm ok, I just got electrocuted and shot.'_

'There's no one…' Adam muttered.  
Dr Miller nodded and turned to go as Adam closed his eyes again, blocking out the world. Once more, he felt totally alone.


	4. Morbid Curiosity

**Shadow - Chapter 4: Clear Head**

Adam sat in his hospital bed, picking at the cream sheets. He was now used to the hustle and bustle of the hospital. His anger at the detached way the doctors and nurses dealt with him and subsided into a stolid indifference. Over the last few days he had felt totally numb, as if he were padded with cotton wool. The IVs that always seemed to be pouring a new concoction into his body had done their job and according to Dr Miller, Adam was apparently free from infection. He sat alone in his room, still unaware of the time or date. He felt horribly clear headed for the first time since he'd woken up in the bathroom. Shifting his position he winced; moving his shoulder was still painful. He hadn't seen his gunshot wound yet; the nurses always seemed to change the dressings when he was asleep… he hadn't seen his ankle either. All he knew was that it stung horribly every time they applied new dressing to it. He knew it probably wasn't the best of times, but he wanted to see the mark the shackle and repeat electric shocks had left on his skin.

Peeling back the bandage and dressings that had been carefully protecting the raw flesh, Adam involuntarily moaned. The swelling had gone down, but the skin still looked awful; there were lacerations and blisters sticking up where the electricity had fried his ankle. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling horribly light headed and dizzy, his whole body seemed to be dropped into a steaming bath as Adam experienced the most uncomfortable hot flash he'd ever had. Sloppily sticking the bandages back down with shaking hands, he began to fall apart. Adam cupped his hands around his mouth, assuming that that's what you did began breathing like you'd just ran a marathon for no apparent reason. It didn't help, and he fell back on his bed jarring his aching shoulder, unable to draw enough breath into his lungs. He was unaware that anyone had entered the room until he felt a cool hand on his forehead and another take his hand.  
'Adam! Adam, I want you to breathe in and out, slowly, like this-' Dr Miller said, fanning a hand up and down to demonstrate the breathing pattern. 'Adam-' she repeated, '-it's just a panic attack, you're going to be ok. Just breathe with me.'

_  
He was back on the chain, back in the bathroom hearing Lawrence's screams as he hacked his own foot from his body. _

Adam began to moan between every gasp, his lungs burned with cold air and his heart throbbed in fear; he felt sick- entirely helpless; his groans quickly elevated to a violent sobbing, hot tears of panic sliding down his cheeks.  
'Laura, get me 10ml of Diazepam, we need to inject- he's not responding to my voice,' Dr Miller muttered to a young nurse who was hovering at the door, seemingly not doing anything in particular to help.

What felt like a lifetime later Adam felt a small prick in his arm and he slowly came back to himself. As he calmed down and realised that his hand was still grasping Dr Miller's hand he demanded that Laura leave. He didn't feel up to having another incompetent ass giving him Bambi eyes. After a while he found his voice again, and let go of Dr Miller's hand.  
'I've never... had a panic attack before.'  
Dr Miller was surprised to hear the man's voice; he was usually so short, and refused to talk to anyone else in the building, particularly since the visit from the police officers.

'They're quite common in cases in which a person has suffered severe trauma. They're natural, but hopefully we can keep them at bay now; I'm going to give you a Diazepam pill once a day which should help with the anxiety. I'm just surprised no one put you on them earlier...' Her voice was not distant, despite the almost textbook delivery of the diagnosis.  
'Huh…' Adam mumbled, not knowing what to say. He'd made an ass of himself a lot recently. And every time it seemed to be in front of Dr Miller. 'Sorry…' He said quietly, avoiding her eyes.  
'What for?'  
'I've been stupid… you know… over reacting…'  
'Adam, don't apologise.' Her voice was filled with awe, 'You've suffered something nobody should _ever_ have to deal with. And to be quite honest, you're coping a whole lot better than I'd expect.'

She watched the gaunt man in front of her shift uncomfortably, and fought the urge to reach out and give him a hug. He looked so lost.

'I beg to differ…' For the first time in a long while Adam cracked a small smile. Something about Dr Miller put him at ease and he lay back on his bed. Dr Miller stayed with Adam for a little while longer. She tried talking to him, but as the side effects of the drug took hold he began to droop and fell into a dreamless sleep.


	5. Perfect Drug

**Shadow - Chapter 5: Perfect Drug**

'And how does that make you feel?'

Adam had never heard such a clichéd question in all his life. He was sitting in an uncomfortably large chair, facing away from Dr Levenstein, the hospitals resident psychologist. He was a short, overweight man who seemed overly greasy and self satisfied. The room they were in was almost typical of a psychologist's office, down to the wooden desk and well placed plants, and the reclining chair. When Adam had heard he had been assigned to a psychologist he had kicked up a lot of fuss about having to share his personal life with a complete stranger, but he was convinced to at least 'give it a try'.

He refused flat out to lie down, or to answer any questions to begin with, but after a short while of wheedling he'd finally given the sage advice that Dr Levenstein should be an agony aunt for 'some fucking gossip magazine'. The balding doctor was staring at the back of Adam's head, trying to make sense of the young, unstable, man massaging his arm with one hand while letting the other dangle freely, shaking slightly.

'How does it make me feel?' Adam repeated, 'You want me to _tell _you how I _feel_ after waking up in that... that shit hole?'  
Dr Levenstein's voice remained calm and controlled, 'I want to help you adjust to normal life again, Adam, and to do that properly I'd like to know what happened. You can tell me in your own time,'

'I'm sure you've seen the pictures,' Adam snapped. A few days earlier he'd had to be photographed for the police evidence before his wounds healed fully. Standing shirtless in a blank room with two police officers and a slightly odd woman behind a camera Adam had never felt so exposed. He'd tried to avoid seeing his bullet wound, not wanting to trigger another panic attack, but failed to tear his eyes away as he removed his hospital gown for the photo. He'd felt sick to his stomach, but being totally dosed up on Diazepam, Adam managed to fight the impending panic down again.

'I have, Adam, but they don't tell me how you _feel_,' Dr Levenstein murmured in a fatherly 'stay calm, I'm just doing this for your benefit' tone.  
'Why do you even care?" Adam snarled, 'It's not like I'm your kid. It's not like you're ever going to see me again and it's not like you can take me back in time and stop that fucking freaky pig thing from breaking into my place and attacking me. You can't go back and stop that guy from chaining me to that pipe and you _certainly_ can't fucking go back and stop Lawrence from hacking his foot off!'

Adam stopped, his brief tirade completely draining his energy. He banged his head on the back of the chair and tried swallowing the sizable lump forming in his throat. It hurt, and he choked on a sob, not allowing himself to cry in front of this irritating doctor.

'Adam, I may not know you but I do care about my patients. I think you'll find that if you just talk to me for a few minutes,'

It was hard enough telling another guy how he felt. Adam wasn't into the whole 'share your emotions' thing. His friends were the type to laugh, slap you on the shoulder and tell you that you needed to get laid.

'I can't fucking describe how I _feel_!' Adam moaned.  
'Take it slow. How did you feel after you woke up here?'

'... I really am not in the mood to do this right now,' Adam snapped, furiously wiping away an angry tear that rolled down his cheek. He knew he was being difficult, and he didn't care. Everyone in the hospital were just hollow shells to Adam. They didn't really care about him. He could tell by the half glazed look in their eyes whenever they talked to him. He could tell Dr Levenstein didn't really care; he was sitting in this huge office, writing with a pen that probably cost more than Adam's camera and would likely go home to some leggy blonde who'd have his dinner ready cooked.

'You don't care about me. Nobody fucking does. Lawrence promised me he'd be back with help and look where he is now! In some fucking morgue somewhere while I'm here all alone with fucking nosey doctors telling me I'll be ok. Well let me tell you; I will not be o-fucking-kay. I can't even imagine what ok _is_!' Adam's chest rose and fell and he stood up, pushing his chair across the room, and swept out of the office as fast as he could manage on his injured ankle.

In the corridor everything began to get hazy, as if gas had leaked and was distorting the air around him. Then he felt his face connect with the floor.

'Adam…? Adam?' The woman's voice drifted into Adam's subconscious, scattering the memories of Lawrence's animal screams into the shadows of his mind. Faintly aware that someone was stroking his hair Adam's eyes wrenched open and a fresh wave of panic swept through him. It was Dr Miller. 'Hey there,' she smiled caringly, 'you had quite a fall.'

'I'm an idiot.' Adam muttered. He hated himself for coming off as a fool in front of Dr Miller once more.  
'You have a small cut above your eye, I patched it up nicely though. Now what got you so upset that you managed to faint right in the middle of the ward?' Dr Miller asked, looking at Adam intently.  
'That guy- the psychologist. I wasn't in the mood to talk…' Adam shifted, back in his familiar hospital bed.  
'I see…' Dr Miller paused, wishing there was something she could say.  
'I guess… I dunno, I just- this whole thing seems unreal. It feels like it didn't happen, yet it's the only clear thing in my head. All I can remember is that room. And Lawrence.' Dr Miller watched Adam twist the bed cover in his hands. He was obviously on the verge of sharing something, but she didn't want to pry. That seemed to get you nowhere with this guy. Silence was the best option, and she sat on a hard orange chair by his bed, watching him closely.

'I keep asking myself, why did he pick me? But then I think, why _not_ me? I mean… it's not like I'm a difficult target. I live alone. Spend pretty much most of my days alone… no one missed me. No one even knows this happened outside this hospital.' Adam stared blankly at the wall and tried to remember the last time he'd talked to his mother. He couldn't.

'I know I can't change what happened…' Adam almost whispered, 'I just wish I could accept it, you know? Ugh… I just-' Adam broke off. His chest felt like an empty cavern, dark and hollow. He became horribly nauseous. Out of nowhere he felt his face crumple and the first few tears of remorse rolled down his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the urge to just lie down and howl into his pillow. He hadn't cried like this in years… he hadn't cried like this _ever_.

Adam battled with this complete loss of control; he didn't want to humiliate himself any more in front of Dr Miller, but it wouldn't subside. After wiping away each tear new ones would replace them on his pale cheeks. He cried for Lawrence, his family, his daughter. Adam cried for himself; he was broken. He didn't even notice Dr Miller sit beside him on the bed. Against his will his cries became sobs. Adam didn't feel her placing her arms around him, but subconsciously he gripped onto her. After what felt like a decade of sitting, rocking in time with Dr Miller, he began to calm down.

Slowly he lifted his head, 'I'm s-sorry,' he choked, slapping himself on the forehead and screwing his face up. Shame bubbled inside him. Why couldn't he keep it together in front of this woman?

'Adam, I'm just happy you finally got something out… it'll always be hard to talk about it but you made progress today…' she paused, 'I know you don't think any of us care, but I want you to know that I do.' When Adam didn't respond she tried again. 'Just remember, I think you're incredible, right? You've come through this real well so far. Don't give up, and if you want a hug… just call, okay?' She smiled and left Adam alone.

Adam stayed awake for a long time after that. Something about Dr Miller always managed to calm him. When she held him he felt like someone else. Like his troubles were distant and futile. But now he was alone again and in the darkness he was reminded that even though she seemed to care, Dr Miller probably forgot him the second she closed the door.


	6. Freedom

**Shadow - Chapter 6: Freedom**

Adam's hospital bed creaked as he climbed onto it. For the first time in days he felt vaguely normal. He had just had a shower, entirely of his own volition. The cool water had soothed him, he sat and thought. It seemed like the first positive thing that he had done since being in the hospital. His jet black hair was damp, crystalline droplets of water dripped from the ends and ran down his neck under the hospital gown. The sensation was nice, and he remained sitting prone on the bed for ten minutes, just enjoying the quiet. Despite being almost relaxed, Adam knew that at any second a doctor would come in, check on his gunshot wound and remind him why he was there. He tried to hold onto the feeling, trying to simply exist, not thinking and not moving.

True to his assumption, a short haired nurse bustled into the room, exclaiming how having taken a shower was a 'big step'.

'Betcha it feels nice to be all squeaky clean, doesn't?' she cooed, making Adam feel like a child. He chose to ignore her. Eventually, after checking his wound and trying to make stilted conversation she left him in peace. He cursed when he attempted to regain his previous state of composure; it was gone. He laid his head down on the cold pillow and his thoughts drifted to Lawrence. He thought of Diana having to live life without her father. A deep well of sadness opened up in Adam's chest. He felt hollow again.

He felt sorry for Diana; he knew what it was like to lose a parental figure; his father had died when he was about her age... and the memories were all too clear. His mother had become cold and distant after his father's death, and Adam had had to raise himself virtually alone. He blamed his later life of solitude on his mother's unkind attitude when he was young; deciding never to rely on another person again. Living on his own had gone hand in hand with that choice. Girlfriends had never really been an issue; Adam was sure there had been a consensus between the female gender to never take him seriously and dump him after about three weeks. He had a few flings with various unbalanced girls, before returning to a life of solitude. That had suited him until now... all he wanted now was a friendly face to help him through this. He had hoped Lawrence would be there, he would completely understand Adam's pain... but instead he was stuck with irritating nurses and doctors with huge God complexes. He missed Lawrence. He had only known him for a day, yet he felt more connected to him than to anyone else.

Adam felt his ankle with gently prying fingers. The skin was still healing and parts were still sore from the burns. He was no longer hooked up to IVs, but he was dosed up on Diazepam. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the hospital; he couldn't remember the last time he had felt the air on his face. It made sense to him to discharge himself from the hospital; he couldn't stand the people, the food, the looks of pity he received whenever he stepped out into the hallway. That moment something inside Adam snapped and he decided: he would discharge himself that afternoon.

Once Adam had made up his mind to leave the hospital he discovered a snag in his plan. He needed clothes. All he had worn since he had been admitted to the hospital were thin hospital gowns. The clothes he had been brought in wearing had been taken as evidence by the police. After about thirty minutes thinking he decided he'd have to steal a pair of scrubs and tuck the hospital gown into the pants. Luckily the hallway his room was on was empty, and he padded in bare feet over to the bin containing old scrubs. He tried to pick a pair with as little hospital remnants on as possible. He found a pair that looked like they had hardly been worn and snuck back to his room. In the cubicle that was his bathroom he looked in the tiny mirror. The sight was quite pitiful. He was pale and quite gaunt; he had eaten as little hospital food as he could during his stay and the weight loss was quite noticeable. His hair was longer too.

Squaring himself to deal with the woman at reception, and for the outside world, he left his room and quite casually made his way to the front door. The nurse on reception was quite amiable, only questioning whether he really felt fit enough to leave, and telling him that due to his financial situation and the nature of his injuries his hospital bill would be dealt with by the them. He was outside within five minutes. His only regret was he hadn't said goodbye to Dr Miller, although it was probably for the best; she was the only person who could have convinced him to stay. It was better that way.

Adam slowly acclimatised to the outside world. It was mid afternoon; there was little traffic and only a few people in the street. The familiar distant rumble of traffic was reassuring. He guessed it was a weekday; a weekend would be much busier. He slowly strolled down the street, every so often flinching as someone walked too close or someone shouted. It was only a few blocks to his apartment, and he didn't have any money, so going home seemed the best choice. It was nice to feel a breeze on his face instead of the hospitals stale, recycled air conditioning.

He was on edge; seeing so many strangers made him uneasy; he could not tell what they were thinking. Before waking up in the bathroom he couldn't have cared less what these people were up to, but now he wanted to know what their motives were. Why were they outside? He speeded up as he reached the end of his street, almost running by the time he reached the door of his apartment building. He placed his hand on the door knob and took a few deep breaths, repeating the pattern Dr Miller had taught him.

He got his spare key from the landlord, a guy in his late fifties, who always wore a grimy white vest and had an air of disdain for everyone else. He had clearly been interviewed by the police about Adam.

'So you were kidnapped?' he said.

'Uh- well-well yeah...' Adam was at a loss for how to respond, he floundered not knowing how to explain, this guy was clearly only asking for the gossip; there was an unpleasant hunger in his eyes.

'The police say you were tortured. That true?'

'I... I'm not gonna talk about it with you.' Adam muttered.

'You owe me rent,' the old man grunted, moving towards his office door. Adam was glad to get rid of him. His pulse quickened as he turned and headed up the creaking stairs towards his apartment. There were remnants of police tape around his door; it had obviously been searched for evidence at some point. He shakily put the key in the lock and entered his small living room. There were still fast food wrappers around his couch, and a stale smell that suggested his home had been still for a long time. Once he was inside he didn't know what to do with himself; his TV bill hadn't been paid in months, so he couldn't watch anything. The chair that the puppet had been sat on was now bare. Even so, he was horribly uneasy remembering that this was the place he had been taken from. His home had always been the one place he could go and feel safe, secure. Now every corner could have an unknown person lurking, waiting to grab him. Adam picked up his baseball bat and proceeded to wonder around his apartment, slamming open doors and cupboards, threateningly holding the bat before him. He even checked the fridge, but all he found was a half empty jar of peanut butter and a packet of old eggs. How embarrassing. No real food at all. After a few minutes of searching he found his bank card in a drawer and left the building.

It felt good to be outside again. It was beginning to get dark and there were a few people out. Adam entered the first fast food place he saw and ordered a meatball sub and a large Coke. He found a seat in the corner and watched the world outside go by for a few minutes, enjoying the food immensely.

All of the people beyond the smudgy window seemed so oblivious to anything but themselves. He wished he could go back to that life. After a while longer he decided to go somewhere else. Turning left onto the street he went through his options; he could go left and see if the mall was still open, there might be something interesting there; or he could go right and see if anything else caught his attention before he got home again. He decided to go right; the mall seemed like too crowded a place and he was suddenly overcome with fatigue. The walk home was like a dream, his vision blurred as his brain began to shut down for sleep. He barely got his key into the lock, and fell onto his battered sofa, letting a deep sleep envelope him.


	7. Pain Threshold

**Shadow - Chapter 7: Pain Threshold**

Sunlight gradually penetrated the thin curtains of Adam's apartment spreading across the room and bathing hiss few pieces of furniture in a pale yellow glow. A beam slowly crawled across Adam's face, resting on his closed eyelids and he moaned in his sleep, shifting into a more comfortable position. Leaning on his injured shoulder he groaned again, sighing heavily as he woke up. For a few seconds he was quite confused; he was so used to waking up in a clean hospital bed, the smell of bleach in his nose, wearing a thin gown.

He slowly remembered that he was still in his stolen scrub pants with his hospital gown tucked in. He needed normal clothes. Adam stumbled to his bedroom, his ankle gently pulsing where the shackle had rubbed and shocked him. He opened his chest of drawers and picked out a clean pair of boxer shorts, jeans and a grey t-shirt, before moving to his bathroom. Adam stared at his reflection in the dusty mirror; he looked awful, there were huge grey bags under his eyes and his cheekbones were a lot more prominent than they had ever been. He had a quick shower, and once he was done he stood, dripping onto his tile floor, staring at the gunshot wound in the mirror. It frustrated him that it would always be there, a constant reminder of the bathroom. He felt a cold terror slide down his spine at the thought, and his breaths quickened considerably, but he still had yesterdays dose of Diazepam in his system and managed to fight back his impending panic attack. Turning away from the reflection he slid the t-shirt over his thin frame and pulled the underwear and jeans on.

Standing in the middle of his living room he tried to decide what to do. He usually occupied himself by taking and developing photographs, but his camera was now police evidence in a locker somewhere, and he was at a loss. He considered calling one of his friends, but couldn't bring himself to pick up the phone. Once again he felt abandoned. He was sure his mother would not even care to hear about his situation. He really didn't want to contact her anyway.

Adam remained still and silent for a few minutes, considering his options. He knew for sure he wanted to be outside; the sight of the chair where the cackling puppet had been sat, and the closet where the intruder had hidden sent jabs of terror up his spine each time he laid eyes on them. He grabbed his keys and his bank card, and made his way outside.

Passing an ATM he decided to check on his cash flow situation. The abysmal amount of money in the account was disappointing; he'd always deluded himself that he had more. He took out all that he needed and a little more for food. Making his way down the wide street he glanced at each store as he passed; everything seemed so fake, so phony now... there was a kid holding hands with his mother, laughing and pointing at the window display in Android's Palace, the comic book store.

Adam felt a pang of jealousy; he'd give anything to be as innocent as that kid. Ignoring the fact that he really needed to save all his spare cash for food, Adam decided to buy himself a pack of cigarettes from a dingy corner store which smelled vaguely like pot and alcohol. The small guy behind the counter had nicotine stained fingers and was a clear foot shorter than Adam, and when he spoke Adam saw that he had more than a fair few missing teeth. Adam considered buying a bottle of Jack Daniels while he was there, but thought better of it when he saw the price. He could either get wasted, or not eat for a fortnight. He bought a lighter, the cheapest they had, and lit up outside. The street was pretty hot, the orange sun hanging low in the sky.

He walked aimlessly for a while, enjoying his cigarettes. Eventually he came around from his stupor and found himself outside some park gates. It was odd; he felt like he'd never been into the park before, he'd lived in the area for years and the only times he had decided to venture in was when he was photographing somebody else. Flicking the cigarette butt into the gutter he decided he'd see what it was like without looking at it through the lens of a camera. There was a gentle breeze as Adam walked into the small play area, he relished the feel of it after spending so long in a stuffy hospital room. He sat on a swing, curling his arm around the chain, and thought about Lawrence. There was a father playing with his daughter on the slide, and the sight made Adam cringe. Lawrence had loved Diana so much, that was clear... and now he would miss out on her growing up... all because of that stupid game. Anger welled up in his chest and kicked hard at the ground sending himself swinging in an awkward half circle. The chain pinched his arm, and he winced, looking down to see the damage. There was a dark red patch on his skin, and he grasped it with his other hand. After a while he found himself savouring the throbbing pain. It was strange; focusing on the injury allowed him to feel release for those few seconds. Frowning, he lit another cigarette and sat there until the sun began to sink behind the apartment complex across the road.

Although the air on his skin was refreshing to begin with, Adam began to get pretty cold wearing only his t-shirt. He decided to go home, only stopping to buy some groceries on the way.

Inside his apartment block he bumped into his landlord, and handed over his rent.  
'Glad you got that to me so soon... I was expectin' you to use your sob story as an excuse to not pay me,' the old man grumbled.

Adam wasn't totally shocked; he was used to the grungy old guy being insensitive, but the words 'sob story' were not ones he wanted to be associated with his situation. He decided not to argue, and went back upstairs.

In his apartment again, Adam haphazardly put his groceries away and slumped onto his couch. His shoulder gave him a jolt of pain, and he gritted his teeth against it, and lit up another cigarette. Staring into space his motions became almost mechanical, lifting the cigarette to his lips, taking a drag, lowering his arm, repeat, repeat, repeat. He didn't notice a piece of ash fall onto his jeans until it had slowly burned through the fabric, and reached his skin.

'Shit!' He jumped up and brushed the ash away, and inspected the burn. It felt strangely good as he picked at the charred flesh. For a while he felt strange at the thought of liking the pain; the only people he had known like that were attention seeking kids. Then he considered another option; maybe, since he had dealt with so much physical pain, his tolerance to it had gone up, making small injuries insignificant. Sort of like smoking, Adam thought, once you've smoked enough it takes more tobacco to make you notice. He lay down on the couch and fell asleep pretty damn confused.


End file.
